What's Normal Anyway?
by From Spark to Flame
Summary: It wasn’t normal to be afraid to go to sleep. But then again, Severus Snape was never normal. It wasn’t normal to cry yourself to sleep. But then again, Harry Potter was never normal.


Disclaimer: The HP series doesn't belong to me.

A/N: Hey peoples.

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It wasn't normal to be afraid to go to sleep. But then again, Severus Snape was never normal.

Though wasn't it normal to not want to fruitlessly wrap blankets around himself in an effort to stop the shivering and chattering teeth that echoed through the room? Wasn't it normal to not want to experience the trickles of sweat seeping out of every pore in his body? Wasn't it normal not to want to feel the wet tear tracks on his cheeks?

That night, every year, he didn't sleep.

Nor did he mourn.

Instead, he immersed himself in the tinkering of useless potions and the correcting of the essays of lazy, half- assing students who didn't give a shit about anything other than themselves. His red ink ran especially scarce that day every year as he marked point after point and insulted student after student.

His quill liked to tickle his nose as he paused for a second between each essay. The soft feathers felt like soft, feminine fingers ghosting over his crooked nose. With a hurry, he would push away the eerie thoughts that immediately came to the forefront of his troubled mind.

It was Lily's Deathday- the day his world came crashing down.

His eyes fluttered closed in an effort to suppress his pain. He never let a tear pass through his front, and he promised himself he never would. That's why he never slept.

His eyes glanced down at the paper in front of his crinkled, weary eyes. Harry Potter. The name flashed out at him in a burst of icy wind. It whipped through his veins, bringing anger and rage into every beat of his crippled heart.

Potter… Harry Potter. His mother gave her life for his worthless one. He ultimately killed Lily.

His hand trembled with the white strain of his knuckles and his thin lips pulled into a tight line. He didn't mark all over the paper, decorating it in his red ink- knowing that if he did, we would end up saying something unethical in a snarky note. Instead, he placed a big 'T' on top of the parchment and moved on to the next student.

That was how he spent his sleepless night.

-

It wasn't normal to cry yourself to sleep. But then again, Harry Potter was never normal.

The tears were endless as he propped the small book on his knees and traced the smiling, waving pictures absently. The yellowing page crinkled as his numb fingers turned to a new set of memories- the memories he never got the chance to experience.

That night, he always cried himself to sleep.

He always mourned what he never had.

And as those tears in his eyes slid down, falling upon the warm book, he found himself recreating his parents' days of the past. He tried to imagine their rendezvous. Their fights. Their friends…

Oh, their friends. Harry was certainly stricken upon seeing a picture of Snape settled in between two stuck together pages. His mother's friend. His mind couldn't process the young looking Snape… the flicker of a smile on his face as he glanced over at Harry's mom.

"Hey? You awake?" A whisper broke through the curtain separating Harry from the outside world. Harry looked up, his eyes noting the two figures behind the curtains.

"I'm here." Harry's voice was scarcely a whisper, his voice breaking from the urge to break down.

Only when Hermione and Ron joined him, did he break down into his friends' arms.

That was how he spent his tear-filled night.

-

Snape's eyes were hard and cold as ever as he strode into the Potions classroom, his cloak flowing behind him like an eerie shadow.

Harry's eyes were as red as ever as he stepped into the Potions classroom, dragging his feet over to his desk and sinking onto the stool.

When Harry got his paper back, a huge T marked in vicious red, he understood.

Snape, though he seemed fine, just hid.

Harry, though he looked shattered, faced it.

His Gryffindor courage came in handy as he slipped past Snape's desk- placing upon it a small picture of a redheaded girl and a greasy haired boy from the past.

The red headed girl that was dead and the greasy haired boy who was as good as dead.

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A/N: What the hell? It ended up being all meaningful and cheesy. Heh, my writing is so random. Anyway, I know it's been forever since I've posted anything, but… I got lost on the road of life. –snicker-

Anyway, please review the cheesy shiz. Spread the love. –grin-

Oh and if anyone forgot- T is for Troll.

Love you all.

XOXO

Flame


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